Haunted Parks and Recreation
by TimshelBliss
Summary: There's too much tension between the boys, but there's no time for that when they're thrown head-first into a case; a haunted amusement park, and the brothers are caught fighting for their lives to avoid peril- at the cost of some chick flick moments. Case fic, early season 2, Hurt!Sam and hopefully a satisfying amount of brotherly schmoop.
1. Chapter 1

**HEY YOU. So disclaimer, to my disappointment the boys still aren't mine. Dammit. **

**Haven't written a fic in a while so BAM here comes some Winchester action.**

**I was at Canada's Wonderland the other day and I couldn't help thinking about how cool it would be to have an epic supernatural showdown there... this is the result.**

**Enjoy!**

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When Sam swung open the Impala's door he cringed, and hoped desperately that the clunk he just heard _hadn't_ come from the black passenger door connecting with the bike rack. Unfortunately, that was exactly what had just happened.

"Oh no you did not," came Dean's voice from the other side of the car, "Samuel Winchester you _did not_ just ding my door."

Sam's cringe deepened and he turned to face his brother, realizing how screwed he was; Dean had _just_ fixed up the Impala, as if he didn't have enough things to be angry about, like Dad dying or the missing Colt, and now he has to go and whack the Impala right after it got fixed up. Shit.

"I'll fix it," Sam blurted out as quickly as he could before Dean could begin his scolding.

"You'll fix it my ass," Dean was pissed, _Dammit Sam, get your shit together,_ "you wouldn't know how to change the Impala's oil even if they taught it to you at Stanford."

_Oooh really Dean? You're going to bring up Stanford now?_

But if Sam was bothered by the comment his face never showed it, "Okay, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not going to fix my car, Sam," Dean called over his shoulder as he started walking towards the diner they had decided to stop at. Pete's Diner, family dinning since 1987. Sam scoffed at the irony, 'family diner,' _what family?_

"Then what do you want me to say?" Sam began to fall into step behind his older brother. _Come on Dean, what do you want me to say? _Things have been tense since Dad died and Sam was so sick of it. All they have now is each other, why couldn't Dean see that?

He were just about to open the door when Dean whipped around, "Nothing, Sam," he barked, "That's want I want you to say. I want you to say nothing. Just shut up; we are going to go inside this diner, we are going to order our food, and then I am going to eat a slice of apple pie in _silence_. Got it?" Dean didn't wait for a reply, he pulled the door open and stepped his way through it.

"Got it," Sam mumbled quietly to himself before swiftly following his brother into the diner.

By the time Sam sat down Dean already had the waitress blushing, "And what will you be having tonight, hon?"

"Oh he'll just have what I'm having," Dean replied before Sam even had the chance to open his mouth, "Minus the pie of course."

"Alrighty then, it'll be ready in a few," The waitress said and she whisked away the menu Sam hadn't even opened yet. He wanted to say something, but thought better of it; if Dean just wanted a dinner in silence Sam could give him that.

The younger Winchester was trying not to stare at his brother devouring the apple pie in front of him, so he let his eyes wander around the diner. They hadn't spoken a word to each other the whole time, and Dean seemed quite pleased with the silence. Sam's eyes settled on the newspaper stand in the corner and from the headline he could only make out one very distinct word, "DEAD."

Sam stood up from their table and began making his way to the newspaper stand. "Where're ya goin?" Dean spluttered out through a mouthful of pie. _Wow, almost four full words,_ Sam thought.

"Newspaper," was Sam's only reply and he momentarily left Dean by himself. _I hate this_, Dean thought to himself, _but dammit that kid can be so annoying sometimes… first with the constant need for a chick flick moment, and now with the car…_ Sam sat back down at the table, eyes glued to the paper in front of him.

"What's the word?" Dean swallowed his last piece of pie and pushed the nearly clean plate to the side, leaning in closer so that he might read the paper too.

Sam simply looked up with raised eyebrows, "Oh, so we're talking now?" Bitchface activated.

_Nah, you scratched my car,_ Dean thought, _I'm not giving in to your bitchface today, Sammy._

"If it's a case, yeah, let's talk."

Sam took a moment to skim across a couple of the paragraphs before reading the headline, "'3 Dead in Roller Coaster Accident.' Beth Anthony, Seth Rogers, and Daniel Waters, all 17 years old, were all found dead inside the gates of Blueriver Wonderland last night."

Dean frowned at the news, "3 teenagers dead at an amusement park, what's this got to do with us."

"Yesterday was Wednesday, the park is only open Friday to Sunday." Sam stated.

"Stupid teenagers, snuck in for kicks, overdosed on some freaky drug," Dean suggested.

"The bodies had suffered severe trauma, and were found tied to top of the roller-coaster tracks, where they apparently bled out." Sam read out loud.

"Some psycho serial killer?" Dean was at a loss, and this was looking more and more like their kind of gig.

"… and the exact same thing happened thirty years ago," Sam's finally finished, "twice."

_Yepp, definitely our kind of thing, _Dean thought, "Okay, so ghost? One of the victims from thirty years ago seeking revenge?"

"Looks like," Sam said.

"Alright… we'll get some research done tonight-"

"I'll," Sam cut in.

"What?" Dean asked.

"_I'll_ get some research done tonight," Sam's words were short and to the point, "because when have you ever done the research, Dean?" It was a rhetorical question.

Dean inhaled slowly, "Shut up, Sam," _Why did I just say that? _Sam was obviously affected by his brother's words but he never faltered. _Dammit I didn't mean to be that harsh!_ Sometimes siblings can bring out the best in you, but they can also bring out the worst in you; this was one of those times.

Sam shoved the newspaper at Dean, "I think I'll walk back to the motel." A crack of thunder suddenly boomed across the sky and Sam immediately regretted his words.

Dean smirked as it started to pour outside, "Really? You think you'll walk back to the motel?"

Sam glared at his brother, listened to the rain come down even harder, and weighed his options; for some reason walking home in the rain seemed like the much better route, "Yup," and stood up from the table.

_Is he crazy?_ _Come on Sammy have we really drifted this far apart? _But for some reason all Dean could bring himself to say was, "Bitch."

Sam turned and walked away, the unspoken 'jerk' hanging in the tense air between them. Dean watched as his brother shoved the door open and bravely walked into the pouring rain.

**unununOoooOOoooOOOOoooOOoooOnununu**

"… there's a lady who's sure, all that glitters is gold," right about now, going thirty over the speed limit driving through a storm, looking for his pain-in-the-ass little brother, Led Zeppelin was the only thing that could possible calm Dean Winchester down, "… and she's buying a stairway to heaven."

Dean had tried Sam's cell four times already, so either Sam got seriously hurt somehow or he's just being a little bitch. The rain clouds had blocked out any light from the moon, so anything outside the Impala's headlights was undetectable by Dean.

Three songs later and the rain stopped, but Dean was still driving down the country road in the middle of the night without his brother in the passenger seat. A sudden chill passed over Dean, but he didn't have time to be cold, not when Sam was-

Sam!

The tall sasquatch of a man suddenly appeared in the headlights, right side of the road, and Dean slammed on the breaks, stopping right next to his soaked brother. Only, Sam was facing away from the Impala, looking straight at something. Dean rolled down the window on the passenger door.

"Sam!" Dean called out to the younger Winchester, "Get in the car, your gonna catch a cold or something, and we _both_ know you're no fun when you're sick."

Sam didn't say anything, Sam didn't even so much as move to indicate that he had even heard Dean speak.

_Oh I get it, the silent treatment._

"Sam I know you can hear me," Dean called again, "Sammy, come on, you really want a chick flick moment? 'Cause you're halfway there just… Sammy?" Dean finally decided to follow his brother's gaze to see what he was looking at, and he found a large sign hidden between the foliage of trees; "Blueriver Wonderland"

Sam _finally_ turned around with his mouth open, as if to say something, but a look of masked horror washed over his face as he gazed upon the Impala. His voice came out low and cautious, "Dean, get out of the car."

Dean laughed, "No, other way around dude; _you get in the car_."

"No, Dean," Sam cautioned again, "get out of the car, right now." Sam's eyes flickered to the back seat and it finally occurred to Dean why he was so cold.

Four synchronized clicks signaled the doors of the Impala locking and Dean's seat belt tightened across his chest.

"Sam?!" Dean looked to his brother for an answer and saw him running towards the Impala. Dean tried to open the door, banging helplessly on it, before struggling to free himself from the seat belt, but it was all for naught. "Dean!" Sam cried as he first tried to open the door, then shoved his torso through the open passenger window, knife in hand to cut Dean out of the seat belt.

Both brothers froze when they saw three ghostly figures materialize in the back seat. An eerie voice sent a chill down the spines of both Winchesters.

"We just wanted to have a civilized conversation."

**unununOoooOOoooOOOOoooOOoooOnununu**

"Dean!" It felt like a rope had been tied around Sam's ankles, and in an instant somebody began tugging on the rope. Sam cried out and grabbed Dean's forearm with both hands, holding on for dear life.

The gates to Blueriver Wonderland swung open behind Sam, and it was trying to pull him in.

"Sam! Hold on!" Dean whipped his head around to the back seat and glared at the ghosts, "What do you want?" He demanded, tightening his grip on his brother. It reminded him of the scene from Titanic- not that he's seen Titanic of course- when all the passengers were dangling from the railing of the bow of the ship, only in this case it was his baby brother dangling from his arm, and it wasn't the freezing Atlantic waiting for him if he let go, it was a dark amusement park with some psycho spirit running loose.

"We just wanted to talk." The brunette in the middle said.

"Then let go of my brother!" Dean yelled at the ghosts, "Let him go dammit!"

"Dean, it's too strong!" Sam said through gritted teeth, "hurts."

Dean looked at Sam with panic, then back at the ghosts, "Please let him go."

The brunette in the middle spoke up, "We're not the ones doing it though."

"Dean!" Sam's fingers loosened only slightly, and in an instant he was flying out of the Impala, arms still reaching out to his big brother.

"Sam!" Dean helplessly called as he watched his brother disappear into the darkness. The gates to Blueriver Wonderland slammed shut.

**To be continued...**

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**Okay so let me know what you think, bit of a slow start I know, but it will REALLY pick up in the next chapter I promise...**

**Seriously I really want to hear from you guys!**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE 3**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it meant a lot!**

**I tried to get this chapter up ASAP, and I tried to amp up the excitement a bit,**

**Hope you like it, ENJOY!**

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Dean took a deep breath in, _one, two, three, four, five,_ Dean exhaled, and then took another deep breath in. _Breathe Dean, just breathe, Sammy's okay you can get him out of this, just deal with these freaking spirits in the back seat and you'll get to Sammy, you'll get to-_

"Can we _please_ have a civilized conversation now?" Came the brunette, once again, from the back.

Dean around to her, looking at the blonde boy on her left and the ginger boy on her right, "Civilized? You throw my brother into a haunted freaking amusement park and you call that _civilized?_" Dean spat the words out.

The blonde boy sighed, "He's not listening to you."

Then the ginger boy spoke up, "She_ said_, that we didn't do that to your brother."

Dean was still trapped by the seatbelt and locked in the car, he was going nowhere, so he decided to listen to whatever these spirits had to say, "So spill, let's have a 'civilized conversation.'"

"That's better," the brunette smiled, "my name is Beth Anthony, this," she said looking to the blonde boy, "is Seth Rogers, and this," she said looking towards the ginger, "is Daniel Waters."

The gears were turning in Dean's head, and Beth Anthony- or the ghost of her at least- could tell.

"If you're wondering why our names sound familiar," Beth continued, "it's probably because our bodies were found yesterday, and hopefully we made the paper."

_The three murdered teens _Dean suddenly remembered, "Condolences," he said, for lack of a better phrase.

"Thank you," said Beth.

"Cut to the chase," Seth spoke up, "his brother might not have a lot of time."

"Right," Beth continued, "So here's the deal, we're dead, we know that, we've moved on; thank us later. Mr. Psycho ghost on the other hand has _not_ moved on, and rather than you going back to your shitty motel and staying up all night researching, we're going to tell you everything you need to know."

Finally, it clicked for Dean, "You're trying to help me?"

"_Yes_ you halfwit," said Daniel, "now _listen_."

"Wait," Dean further interrupted, "how do you know all this?"

"We're _ghosts_, you idiot," Said Seth, "We _know_ things."

Dean shrugged, realizing that that was probably the best explanation he was going to get, and Beth continued, "His name is Roger Wailen, and thirty one years ago, he went a little psycho and murdered four people at Blueriver Amusement Park, where he was one of the maintenance men. Now, when I say a little psycho, I mean he aggressively beat them, cut them, and left them to bleed out tied to the top of the wooden coaster."

Beth leaned forward as she got more into the story, and Dean almost forgot that she was a ghost; in that moment she just felt like a teenager getting really into a creepy story before the slumber party went to sleep.

"Of course, Roger was caught and hanged, but _then_, a year later when they reopened the park for the summer, his spirit came back and murdered four people- _exactly the same way_. Then as a result, they closed to park down for good…" Beth paused for a moment, "only to reopen it thirty years later under the name of Blueriver _Wonderland_. And then, us, being the clever teenagers that we are, decided to sneak in at night to see if the haunting rumors were true. Unfortunately for us, we found an answer." Beth sighed sadly and looked at her fellow dead friends, "Yeah, it sucks, but we'll be okay- as long as you kill the bastard, got it?"

It was a lot of information to process all at once, but Dean got it, "Alright… but the spirit is probably attached to his bones, and-"

"No he was cremated," Beth interrupted, "but his spirit's attached to the little flower bed outside the maintenance office."

"Okay, that's doable," said Dean as he felt his seatbelt finally loosen and heard the doors unlock.

"Dean," Beth whispered, the other two ghosts had already vanished, "Both murders before... there were always four victims… my friends and I; that's just three." Dean could feel his heart drop when he realized what she was saying, "You need to get to your brother _now_."

Beth vanished, bringing the cold with her, but the chill down Dean's spine remained.

* * *

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious, but he hoped that it hadn't been too long. He still hadn't opened his eyes, and he refused to move just as of yet; he was lying face down on the pavement and everything hurt, not too much, but throw a body a couple twenty meters onto the hard pavement of an amusement park and its bound to hurt a bit.

Just a bit of course.

Sam wiggled his toes, _check_, then his fingers, _check_, and then he stopped, feeling like four functioning limbs was enough right now and wanting unconsciousness to take him again.

"Sam?" The voice was distant, and Sam wasn't even sure if it was real, but it came again nonetheless "SAM?" sounding closer this time.

Sam snapped back into consciousness and mumbled a small, "Dean," but when he didn't hear anything in reply he tried again a little louder, "Dean."

"Sammy?" He heard the footsteps running towards him and soon Sam felt a familiar presence by his side.

Dean ran his finger through his baby brother's hair, checking for bumps are cuts, and thankfully finding none. "Hey Sammy I'm right here," He grabbed his baby brother by the shoulders and turned him so that he was lying on his back, face up, head resting safely in Dean's lap, "Say something will you?"

Sam opened his eyes and smiled, "Took you long enough."

"There's my cheeky little brother," Dean smiled as he helped Sam into a sitting position. He took in his surroundings, they were just inside the front entrance of the park, a paved pathway that split into three different paths, there were tacky stores surrounding them, cluttered between food stands and old rides; and then Dean drew his attention back to his little brother. "Y'okay?"

"I think so," Sam mumbled, "just a little sore but I'm fine... listen, Dean," Sam paused and looked at his brother, _puppy-dog eyes activate_, "about the car, and the diner, and what happened…" Sam's tongue was tripping over his words and he couldn't seem to formulate a good way to say it, "Dean I just... I'm just-"

"Hey," Dean interrupted, gazing thoughtfully down at his little brother, "me too." And that was all that needed to be said. The only reply was a sheepish smile as Sam looked down, "Come on kiddo, let's get you up."

After Dean managed to get Sam steady and to his feet, they began searching for the flower bed outside the Maintenance Office and Dean explained why, recounting the exact details of what happened inside the Impala.

"So, they just wanted to help us?" Sam asked, "That's so…"

"Weird?" Dean suggested.

"I was going to say nice but I guess it's pretty weird, too." Sam admitted.

The two Winchesters continued their walk down the main path, cluttered with shops and rides; merry-go-rounds, snack booths, arcades; all eerily covered in shadow. But the brothers hardly even spared the buildings a second glance; they were looking for the Maintenance Office, and they were sure as hell going to find it.

Unless something found them first.

"Dean," Sam whispered, his walking slowed to a stop.

Dean stopped just a few paces in front of him, "Yeah, Sam?"

Sam's Adams-apple bobbed as he answered him, "It just got really cold."

In that instant both brothers had their sawed-offs up and held out in front of them, turning every which way, scoping out the area. "BZZT" The sound startled the boys, and immediately the park lit up in a whirl of colours, the rides all coming to life.

"Awesome," said Dean sarcastically.

There was a faint crackle, and the PA system came to life and the brothers froze mid-stride, "Hello there boys," the voice sounded sinister and withered, "it always made me so mad when people came to the park and were upset… I just wanted them to have some fun..." Sam and Dean exchanged worried glances, "… are you boys ready to have some fun?"

"That depends," Dean yelled, "are we talking Beer Pong or Charades? Because I'm more of a Beer Pong kind of guy."

Sam glared at Dean, eyes bulging and communicating a silent _DeanIsweartoGodifyoudothatagainIwilleatallyourpiewedonotmakefunofspiritsdoImakemyselfclear?_

A rush of cod air hit them and immediately before them stood the spirit of Roger Wailen; a gruff looking man in his forties, still wearing a maintenance uniform, tool belt and all, wrinkles contouring his face and a dark twinkle in his eyes that could mean nothing good.

"Well that's too bad," the ghost announced, "because I'm more of a homicidal murder kind of guy."

Roger Wailen smiled and snapped his fingers, an unseen force ripping the guns from their hands and throwing Sam and Dean away from each other; Sam flying back onto the pavement and Dean flying straight into a unicorn on the Merry-Go-Round.

"Let's see," Roger thought out loud, "I think I'm going to play with the taller one; more height equals more fun, right?" He laughed sadistically while Sam groaned, struggling to get to feet before this sick bastard started to 'play'.

"Don't you touch my brother you psycho freak!" Dean shouted as he struggled to get up from the floor of the carousel trying to use the plastic horses to help him up, "DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM."

Roger then turned to face the eldest Winchester, "My, my, my, this won't do at all," Roger vanished and then materialized above Dean, throwing a punch at his face and then grabbing him by the shirt; lifting him up and harshly seating him on the fake horse. He threw two more punches just for good measure before materializing a rope.

"Dean!" Sam called from across the paved pathway, he could see the blood on his brother's face already; obviously the ghost was strong, hopefully he wasn't smart, too. By the time Sam stood up after finally finding his center of gravity, he could see that Dean's hands were already tied together to carousel's pole, but it wasn't Dean the ghost wanted to hurt it was-

"Sammy," Dean yelled and Roger turned to face the youngest Winchester, "run!"

"I can't leave you here, Dean!" Sam yelled back.

"Yes, you freaking can," Dean countered, "he's going after you, not me, so _haul ass_ and get out of here!"

Sam struggled to find a right answer, stay or go? Fight or flight? Before he could come to a proper decision Roger Wailen pulled a hammer out of his tool belt and smiled that sadistic smile that Sam never wanted to see again, "Yes, Sammy, why don't you run? You won't get away but I'm sure it will be more… fun."

Sam didn't have his gun, he didn't have salt, he didn't have oil or even matches; but he still had his wits, so he was going to run like his life depended on it.

Because this time it did.

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**WHOOPS sorry guys, that's it for now! What did you guys think? I tried to write this and get it up as quick as possible so I apologize for any typos 3  
****(Oh, and by the way, spelling colour with an "ou" does NOT count as a typo; welcome to Canada)**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE AND I COULD REALLY USE SOME LOVE!**

**xoxo- Timshel**

PS next chapter might not be so fast because I have an essay to write... whoops, procrastination's a bitch!


	3. Chapter 3

**HEY THERE EVERYONE**

**And by everyone I mean the very few people who encouraged me to finish the story (that means you .777) 3**

**Anyhoo, this was VERY rushed because I have a very busy day tomorrow and I just really wanted to get this up tonight...**

**So here's how it ends, ENJOY!**

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The blood was pumping through Sam Winchester's veins faster than his heart could supply it. When did breathing become this hard? _Doesn't matter when, just keep running_. He hadn't dared to look over his shoulder since he started running; away from the psycho ghost, but also away from their supplies and, more importantly, his brother.

_Should I have stayed? Is Dean okay? Should I run back? _ The questions were racing through Sam's thoughts faster than his steps were hitting the pavement, but he didn't have time to figure out answers for them. Sam wasn't even sure where he was until he looked up and saw a wooden coaster looming over him.

"Run, run, run, as fast as you can," Roger's voice came from behind Sam, but he just kept going, never looking back, "You can't get away, I'm the maintenance man." The ghost laughed sadistically.

Sam searched his pockets for a weapon of any kind for the fifth consecutive time since he started running, just as he felt a blow to the back of his shoulder, causing him to stumble and, inevitably, to fall.

"Whoops," said Roger, "looks like you didn't run fast enough."

Sam pushed himself up from the pavement and glared at the ghost, his shoulder screaming in pain. He was nearly in a standing position when Roger raised his hammer again and swung it at Sam; he twisted trying to dodge it, but the metal connected with Sam's side and there was a brief cracking sound, signaling a broken rib, followed by a world of pain all down Sam's side.

He screamed in pain as he doubled over, then raised his hands to try and block the next blow- but what good would it do? It wasn't a real hammer, so it couldn't really be defected, but it could sure as hell hurt.

The next blow caught him in the dead centre of his back, and Sam collapsed to the ground, all the air from his lungs momentarily expelled. There was hardly enough air to form coherent words, but he managed a small, "Dean," before cringing in pain.

"Oh, calling out for your brother are you?" Roger's ghost mocked him, "He won't be here any time soon, I tied him up real well."

Another blow, this time to Sam's other side, another crack, another broken rib, another cry of pain

"But don't worry," Roger continued in between hits, "he's fine. I only kill four people at a time."

The next swing of the hammer caught Sam by surprise, coming straight down on his right knee cap, and Sam screamed in inexplicable pain, "Please," he whimpered trying to curl into himself but having to stop when his broken ribs protested, "please."

"Please what, stop?" Another sadistic laugh, "I don't think so- you my boy, are lucky number four."

Roger raised the hammer again, and Sam shut his eyes.

* * *

A scream rose from across the park, and Dean cursed. He'd been working at the ropes around his wrists for what seemed like an eternity, all the while he could hear his brother in agony, _I'm coming Sammy, I'm coming. Just hold on brother, I'll be there._

The rope was giving a little more leeway now but it still wasn't enough to get his hands out. Dean's eyes searched frantically around for anything sharp enough to cut through the rope, but here was nothing, so he would just have to keep wiggling and hope for the best.

Another scream, this time louder, and longer.

"SAMMY!" Dean had gotten out of hundreds of ropes in his life, why was this one taking so goddamn long? _Your baby brother's in serious trouble and you're here tied to a freaking unicorn. _

Almost a minute passed before the screams stopped; and the screams either stopped because Sam got away or because –

No, Dean wasn't going to think like that.

Another long and unbearable minute passed before Dean was finally able to get free from the rope. He took off at a dead sprint in the direction that Sam had run, but then skidded to a halt in front of a boring-gray building with a sign that read "Maintenance Office."

Quick as his pounding heartbeat, Dean found the flowerbed and doused it in sat and oil.

"Adios, you son of a bitch."

He struck a match and threw it on the flowers, watching them wither and burn and silently hoping that that would be the last he ever knew of Roger Wailen.

* * *

His body was on fire, so he was almost glad when it started to go numb.

Sam attempted to mentally assess the damage done to his body, but everything was becoming a blur. Broken ribs? _A couple_. Broken legs? _I don't think so, just injured knees._ Arms? _Severely bruised._ Head?_ Miraculously intact, took a couple punches to the face though… black eye?_

His bruises were the least of his worries, he soon realized. He struggled to push the fog out of his mind and when he finally did he remembered quite clearly where he was: top of the wooden-coaster.

_Where are those other people died_, he recalled. Those three teenagers, the four victims before them, and the four victims before _them_, all died the same way, same place. Tied to the top of the coaster and left to bleed out.

_Oh,_ Sam thought, _so that's why my wrist is wet_.

He remembered upsettingly that after Roger tied his arms and legs to the tracks of the coaster, he also slit his wrist for good measure. The knife was poised to cut into his other wrist when Roger let out a terrifying scream and vanished into fire.

At first, Sam had been relieved; one less cut meant more time, right?

Wrong. That only works if you can move, but being tied to the coaster tracks with a broken body is not an ideal escape situation, and Sam felt like he was nearing the end and he helplessly watched more blood flow from his wrist and drip onto the pavement four stories below.

_Drip. Drip._

* * *

"SAM?" Dean had yelled the name a hundred times over, but he couldn't remember ever calling it out more desperately.

He had been running for a while but he just kept running, scared to stop. Was there anything about the past murders that could help him? He racked his memory for any help, but all he could remember was four people, always four people, and the freaking spirit had choses Sam as number freaking four, "SAM?! SAMMY!"

He would scream the name until his throat went hoarse.

Dean finally decided he had to stop, j_ust stop_ and think for a minute, so he skidded to a halt under the highest peak of the wooden coaster that passed over the paved pathway.

_Think, Dean, think._ Four victims… _what happened to the victims though…_ suffered severe trauma and then bled out… _okay but where…_ and then finally Dean remembered.

"Tied to the top of the coaster," he whispered out loud.

_Drip_.

Something wet landed on Dean's arm, and annoyed, he went to wipe it off.

_Rain?_ Dean wondered.

But when he looked at his hand it came away red. Dean suddenly noticed a tiny, tiny puddle of blood where he'd been standing; hard to make out in the dark but all too vividly alarming now.

A gear shifted in Dean's mind and it all clicked for him.

The coaster.

Dean looked up, "SAAAAAAAAAAM?!" He cried desperately, straining his eyesight to see a slight bump on the tracks of the coaster when they were at their height.

Dean had never run faster in his life; hopping the fence that kept civilians out and climbing onto the tracks.

"SAMMY?" Dean yelled again, reaching the part in the tracks that started to go upwards. Hand over hand, shoes struggling to find foot-holds as he made his way up the tracks.

After what felt like millennia, Dean reached the top of the tracks, where there was thankfully a couple feet of platform on one side of the track, and Dean's eyes fell on his brother.

"Sammy," the word was nearly choked out, and Dean ran over to his brother, falling to his knees by his side, "SAMMY?"

Sam's eyelashes fluttered open, hazel irises searching, not finding, and then closing again.

"Come on, Sam," Dean wanted to cry but he resisted, "let's see those eyes again, huh? Those freaking puppy dog eyes, please show them to me, kiddo."

When Sam's eyes opened again, this time staying open, Dean let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in.

"D'n," the youngest Winchester managed to mumble out, "…wrist."

Dean nodded and as quickly and as carefully as he could, he cut away the ropes that had his brother tied down. He reached into the duffle and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping it around the cut wrist and tying it again with a second cloth.

When Sam was free and the blood finally clotted, Dean wasn't sure what to do- they couldn't just stay on top of a roller-coaster now could they?

"Hey, Sammy? How bad is it?"

Sam looked at his brother, opened his mouth as if to say something, then quickly shut his eyes, which Dean recognized as the universal "if I try to say anything I might cry" signal.

"That bad, huh?" _That motherfucking ghost I almost wish I hadn't killed him so that I could just kill him all over again that sorry son of a bitch that-_

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I know that we have to get down."

Dean looked at his brother sadly, _Dammit Sammy I wish life wasn't so hard for you, I wish you couldn't stayed at Stanford, I wish-_

"I can make it, I promise."

Dean smiled down at his baby brother, "I know you can."

It was a painful process, but the brothers finally made it back down to solid ground; Sam trying not to yelp with every movement and Dean trying not to cringe with every yelp. But it was what the brothers did best, when things were tough they clung to each other and when things got tougher they held on even tighter.

After Dean finished wrapping and bandaging Sam's ribs, there wasn't much else he could do- the rest of Sam's injuries were severe bruises and internal injuries. Sam was in a lot of pain, but he was going to make it, Dean would make sure of that.

"So Roger's done?" Sam asked. He was lying on the ground with his head in his brother's lap, he wasn't quite ready to get up just yet.

"Oh so you're on first name basis with the guy now, eh?" Dean smirked.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam smiled back.

"And yes, _Mr. Wailen_ is in fact, done."

"That's good." Sam replied.

Dean laughed quietly to himself about the simplicity of that answer; the poor kid had been beaten within an inch of his life, and all he can say is that it's good.

But then again, looking around, not a harm in sight, his brother safe in his arms, I guess good is an alright name for it.

Dean smiled, and Sam returned the favour; it was good.

FIN

**YEP THAT'S IT. IT'S DONE!**

**Sorry not my best work but I was in a hurry, please please PLEASE let me know what you think!**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE!**

**xoxo**

**Darby**


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